


You will know all which I have silenced

by magnusbaene



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (as always), Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Intrigue, M/M, Politics, There isnt even that much angst...i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 16:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10495248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnusbaene/pseuds/magnusbaene
Summary: The gardens around the Red Keep were quiet. The flowers that were spilling into the paths illuminated by the soft glow of the dawn. It was perhaps the only place in King’s Landing in which Alec could cherish his solitude without the constant thoughts of duties clouding his mind, without his future looming forebodingly over his head. And as he leaned against the wall separating them from the pier, he felt content for the first time in weeks.______With his mother already planning his wedding, Alec fears that all hope is lost.Until the Prince of Dorne arrives in the capital.(No GOT knowledge needed.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, this is my contribution to shaumonday's Royals Week.  
> Title was taken from [Pablo Neruda. ](http://wnq-writers.com/post/158584683050/in-one-kiss-you-will-know-all-which-i-have)
> 
> Disclaimer: Quotes out of both shows are used in this fic, they're of course not mine. :)

The gardens around the Red Keep were quiet. The flowers that were spilling into the paths illuminated by the soft glow of the dawn. It was perhaps the only place in King’s Landing in which Alec could cherish his solitude without the constant thoughts of duties clouding his mind, without his future looming forebodingly over his head. And as he leaned against the wall separating them from the pier, he felt content for the first time in weeks.

He had visited the city today. With taxation steadily rising, poverty was reeling its ugly head. The war in the North was draining their resources, forcing refugees into an already overpopulated city. And as much as his parents preached about the necessary death of the usurper, Alec could not help but overhear the words in the streets. The way the Lightwood name was whispered with helpless anguish, the way he saw the people avoid his eyes, and part to let him pass should they recognize him as heir to the Iron throne.

“Fear is power,” his mother had told him, time and time again, but lately Alec had been questioning whether his family was in the right more often than not. His eyes followed a man of the City Guard walking the pier, the strength in his steps, the arm resting on his sword. It was not the first time Alec had contemplated his family’s place in King’s Landing. Robert’s Rebellion had been brutal, the sack of the city even more so. His father called the former monarchs cruel. Other’s talked of them favouring the people instead of the nobility, and hearing that always left a bitter taste in Alec’s mouth. He could draw his own conclusions regarding his parents’ motivation to rebel. Still, there was nothing he could do, except be a better ruler himself. The prospect of inheriting the throne brought no joy to his mind, but before the thoughts of his future could become troublesome, he was interrupted by footsteps nearing behind him. Slowly, Alec turned only to be met with a welcome sight.

“Brother.”

Jace stood tall in the armour of the Kingsguard. His sword was gleaming in the light. However, his usual grin was nowhere to be found. “Mother sends for you, Alec.”

Alec’s body straightened, tension filling his veins. He wondered briefly when his mother’s presence had become a burden instead of a comfort. Pushing himself off the wall, he walked towards his brother, a question in his eyes. Jace’s hand found his shoulder, the look on his face grave. “It sounded serious.”

Shrouded by the shadows cast by the trees around them, they shared a glance. They had grown up together, fought together, and understood each other without words. And together, they climbed the stairs to the Red Keep, the shadow not leaving even as the shade passed. Something would change, soon.

 

Reaching the room of the Small Council, Alec could hear his mother’s voice carrying through the doors. Despite the constant reminder of his duties, his mother had banned him from attending any council meetings, deeming it too soon. “Your time will come, Alec,” she had said. But the comfort the words were supposed to convey never reached him. Nevertheless, standing in front of the doors, Alec told himself that he should heed his mother’s words. Still, he mused, listening in was not his intention, and therefore did not qualify as disobeying orders.

“Any word of the Grey Wolf?” Maryse’s voice was cold as ever, calculating. People talked of the former King, and the giant wolf that had adorned his armour at the day of the battle. Alec had always thought that his survival was nothing but a rumour, but it appeared that he had been wrong.

“My birds tell me of a knight, an excellent swordsman. Making his way through Essos, a girl by his side.” The master of secret was a sleazy man, disliked by many, Alec included. He would not sit on his council should the time arrive. “They call her ‘The girl of fire’. And her company seems to be very sure of her birth right.” Alec could picture his mother’s dismissive gesture even before he heard her speak.

“A little girl will be of no consequence to us,” a pause. Alec held his breath. “Still, poison her.”

The screeching of chairs brought Alec back to the world, and he swiftly made his way to the hallway, his mother’s words still ringing in his ears. Pointless murder, so effortlessly ordered? Before he could contemplate this further, he felt an arm touch his shoulder.

“Alec,” his mother had no time for greetings, “walk with me.”

Taking her arm, he led her up the stairs and towards the balconies adoring the sides of the Keep. His mother kept quiet, and Alec could feel dread pooling in his stomach. As they reached the balcony overlooking the city below, she began to speak. It was the usual lecture, reprimanding him for mingling with the people instead of dedicating his entire life to his lessons in diplomacy. Yet, the tension did not leave his body, and Alec couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something bigger following his mother’s usual complaints. Especially after she started talking about the state of the kingdom, the war.

“Your father has grown weak. Enemies will make use of this and try to overthrow us. It is your responsibility to prevent this, Alec. We will need strong allies.”

Alec felt the blood in his veins freeze. He had always expected this to happen, but it seemed that no expectation could have prepared him for the bile rising up his throat. “You plan to make me marry.”

Maryse’s answer came quick and devoid of emotion. She had always been more of a ruler than a mother, and Alec could do nothing but let the words wash over him. “House Branwell has always been strong. Their resources would help us enormously, and their army is big. We will finally be able to win this war for good.”

“What if I... don’t want to get married?” he asked, voice quiet. He already knew the answer.

His question was followed by a dismissive wave of a hand. “This is not a time for joking, Alec.” Slowly, she turned to him, and lay a hand on his arm. “You know I love you. You are my son, and I do not want you to suffer unnecessarily. I sent Isabelle to Dorne to ensure our safety, now it is time for you to make sacrifices for our family.” The silence was oppressing, pushing on Alec’s body. A pat on his arm, and his mother turned and made her way to her chambers, leaving him on the balcony. Her words, her tone, only served to confirm something he had been suspecting for a long time. _She knew. She had always known, and still..._ Standing on the balcony, overlooking the city, he realised that his future would see solitude become a constant companion. Not a loss, after all, but a presence. And he wondered, as the voices of his people flooded his senses again, how many other sacrifices he would have to make.

* * *

 

The Water Gardens of Sunspear were a thing of beauty. Fountains and pools, shaded by blood orange trees. The Courtyard paved by marble, and a triple archway marking the way to the terraces overlooking the water. The place was filled with sound, just as the Dornish preferred, musicians sitting in the shade; it was perhaps the only place in the Seven Kingdoms where highborn and lowborn children played as if equals. The rising sun lazily caught on bronze skin and spiked hair as Magnus made his way to the terrace overlooking the pools. Enjoying the salt breeze blowing in from the sea, he watched the children play, a gentle smile on his face. It was slow days as these that he cherished more than anything. The war brought devastation upon the entire kingdom, and his days were filled with doing everything in his power to shield his people from any pain. And after dealing with too many demands and mindless nobles, seeing the children untouched by the gruesome reality of the world filled him with a warmth the sun could not provide. Arriving at the terrace, he leaned against the barricade, and let himself bask in the glow of the sun.

Until footsteps reached his ears.

“A message for you, my Prince,” the messenger proclaimed, “It appears to be a Royal missive.”

At this, Magnus turned, a single eyebrow lifted as his hand rose to receive the envelope. Thanking the servant, he took note of the wax seal stamp, and carelessly ripped it off. One look at the content, and laughter was spilling out of Magnus’ lips, head thrown back. His tunic swaying, he swiftly walked through the palace, only slowing once he made it to the Tower of the Sun, and threw open the high doors to the throne room. “You will not believe what I’ve just received, my friend.”

“Magnus, I have told you to knock. Repeatedly.”

Ragnor Fell, Magnus advisor and friend, was sitting by the low table to the right of the room, reviewing several reports. Like a brother to Magnus, he knew him well enough to understand the look on his face, and promptly lowered his pen and gave him his full attention. Holding up the missive, Royal seal visible, Magnus dramatically began to read.

“Prince Magnus Bane of Sunspear, you are hereby invited to the Royal Wedding of His Royal Highness Alexander of House Lightwood, and Lydia of House Branwell. A paragraph about honour, family,” sitting down next to Ragnor, he threw one leg over the other, “mentioning their right to the throne, of course, one month of celebration followed by the actual wedding, as one does.”

With a flourish, Magnus presented the message to Ragnor, who looked over it one more time. Inviting the Prince of Dorne to King’s Landing was a necessity, and certainly not an offer based on friendship. Magnus told Ragnor such.

“You know you have to go. It would be seen as a slight against the Crown otherwise,” Ragnor rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“I know,” Magnus’ words were heavy with a feeling he longed to forget, “the last time I was in the capital...” He trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

“Magnus,” Ragnor warned, “once there, you cannot let your feelings guide your hand.”

A deep exhale, and Magnus stood. With heavy steps, he walked towards the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The content he felt just minutes before almost forgotten as he lay his fist against the barricade. “My mother-”

“I know what happened to your mother, my dear. Still, you must pick your battles,” Ragnor cut in, voice carrying through the room.

Just then, movement in the gardens caught his gaze. He watched, a slow smile on his face, as Princess Isabelle swung her staff to hit one of her trainers in the legs. One successful hit after another, laughter reaching his ears, and Isabelle joined Catarina and her daughter, Madzie, at the pools. A Westerosi princess learning to fight in Dorne of all places, if only her mother knew. Magnus remembered her arrival, the loneliness that seemed sunk into her bones. The way she talked of her brothers, the letters she received. Surprisingly, Magnus and her had been fast friends. Her fierce longing for justice had endeared him to her immediately, and Magnus’ intelligence and kindness had been magnetising from the start. It was true then, he mused, that he ought to give the Lightwood children a chance. He had always known, maybe too well, that children could not be measured by the actions of their parents.

Standing there, the sun warming his skin, Prince Magnus ran a hand along his beard, his eyes fixed upon the princess, and made his decision.

* * *

 

They say a wedding brightens up all gloom inside a kingdom, but the shadows following the Lightwood siblings were noticed by all. In the Red Keep, the preparations were in full swing. The Branwells had arrived earlier during the week, but Alec had yet to meet his... betrothed. And as he stood at the edge of the King’s road with Jace, welcoming his guests, he thought that he would wait a few more hours to return to the castle. Even though his brother’s enquiries threatened to change his mind.

“You look miserable, brother,” Jace stated. He stood next to him, scanning the heraldry of the arriving parties. He had not left his side since their mother had decided his fate.

“It is my duty.”

“And what of happiness?”

Alec took a deep breath, what of happiness indeed. He had forgone the desire to feel truly happy for the first time in life as soon as it had come. “Emotions are nothing but a distraction. I will be King, one day. And I will need...” he trailed off. The words were bitter on his tongue. “A wife.”

A fire blazing in his eyes, it was clear that his brother would not give up that easily. However, before he could put his protests into words, they were interrupted by a soldier running their way.

“My lord!” he addressed Jace directly, “It appears that the Prince of Dorne has already arrived in the morning, before the rest of his party.”

This put both Jace and Alec into motion. They had been ordered to welcome the Dornish as lavishly as possible, given the strained relationship of their respective rulers. Jace was already walking towards the soldier, “What? Why was I not alerted immediately?”

“He came quietly, without a banner, my lord.”

Moving apologetic eyes to Alec, Jace grabbed the soldier by the arm. “I have to go. Will you be alright?”

“No,” Alec rolled his eyes, words dipped in sarcasm, “I can’t find my way back through the city if left alone.”

A smile crawling across his face for the first time for days, Jace fixed his eyes upon him. “Don’t think this conversation is over.”

“I would never.”

“Good.” Dragging the soldier away, he finally turned and made his way towards the city. “Now,” voice serious, “lead me to the Prince.”

  
Catarina’s dark hair always looked particularly beautiful in the glow of the sun, Magnus mused. They had arrived in the capital in the early morning, and immediately made to one of the wine houses in the city. The balcony they were on served as a small reminder of home, the city they were looking down upon, did not. Raising his glass to his lips, Magnus tried to drown the memories threatening to overwhelm his mind. Just as he finished his wine, and made to fill his glass anew, a soldier stepped through the door.

“Finally found me, have you?” Magnus observed, raising his glass in greeting.

“Prince Magnus Bane of Sunspear,” the soldier replied, “My name is Raj, of the Kingsguard. I have been assigned to you, to keep you from harm during your time in the capital.”

“Keep me safe?” Magnus shared a glance with Catarina, her own hand was raised to her face, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Yes. You and your...” Raj paused, and then gestured towards both of them, “wife?”

“Friend,” Magnus was quick to correct him, “Maybe sister would be more accurate. I don’t need your protection, Raj.”

Raj nodded, but did not turn. Instead, he looked Magnus over, slowly. Took note of the red tunic, the rings adorning his fingers. Magnus felt amusement crawl up his veins as their eyes met. Finally, after thinking over his words carefully, Raj spoke. “I would still like to stay, if your grace will allow it.”

A smirk taking over his face, Magnus gave him a long look, and was just about to speak before he was interrupted by a loud voice coming from the room next to them. Voices. Voices singing a tavern song about the slaughter during the Rebellion. Dimly, he registered Catarina’s voice calling his name, but he was already out of his seat by the time she tried to reach for him.

Stepping through the doors, he was met with two soldiers of the Lightwood army who, as soon as they spotted him, sprang from their seats. “Would you look at that! We don’t see many Dornishmen in the capital.”

“I wonder why,” Magnus drawled. Leisurely, he stepped farther into the room. His eyes not leaving their faces, watching the incredulity take over once they saw Raj entering the room behind him.

“A Dornish accompanied by a Lightwood soldier?” one of them exclaimed, “the Crown should not waste their men on something like this!”

Tension filled the room. Eyes found Magnus the moment he let out a light laugh, voice dipped in honey he began to speak, slowly moving towards the soldiers. “Do you know why people like me dislike people like you?” A hand ran over the candles, the man on the other side glanced towards his sword lying on the table. “You, with your golden armour, think you're better than everyone else.” Magnus’ hand moved back to his own waist, dancing over the dagger hanging from his belt. “Can I tell you a secret? You are not golden. You are just a little man who is far too slow on the draw.”

A beat. Magnus’ words echoed through the halls. The soldier glanced towards his sword once again, then towards Magnus’ hand on his belt. The silence was heavy, the tension even more so.

Then, suddenly, the soldiers moved. A sword drawn, the sound loud in the room. A hand raised, the soldier in front of Magnus reaching for his sword, but just as his hand met the table, Magnus’ dagger slammed into his wrist.

“Long sword is a bad option in close quarters,” Magnus tutted. Unfortunately, they were interrupted by footsteps outside the door, and with lost splendour, Jace stepping into the room.

“Prince……Magnus.” He faltered, taking in the scene before him. Magnus pulled his dagger out of the soldier’s wrist, the man falling to the ground. Sending the soldiers a murderous glance, Jace’s composure returned swiftly. “Prince Magnus,” he cleared his throat, “Jace Lightwood, here to welcome you to the capital. I see you have already found some friends.”

A laugh spilled out of Magnus’ throat, he was going to like this man, he was sure.

“How about we take a walk,” Jace continued, “and I show you around the city.”

* * *

 

“The King is very grateful that you’ve made it here in time for his son’s wedding.”

They walked slowly through the city, Magnus’ eyes straying to the people. “Let us speak truth here. Robert would rather poison my wine, and provoke a war than be grateful over my presence.”

“That is probably true. No offense, your grace. The relationship between our houses seems to be strained at best.”

A laugh left Magnus’ lips once again as he stopped and turned, eyes finally finding Jace’s. A moment passed, Magnus’ gaze burning into Jace, contemplating. Then, he looked back over the city. “Last time I was in the capital... was for another wedding. I was still a boy. Jocelyn Fairchild, Lucian Greymark.”

Magnus paused just to see recognition pass over Jace’s face. Those names were known to everyone in the kingdom. With a scoff, he continued.

“Lucky they called it. Then, Jocelyn was killed, and this sparked a war that ended right here. When your father’s army sacked the city. Lucian escaped, if you believe the rumours, my mother however...was not so lucky. The soldiers killed anyone still in the city.”

A heavy silence hung between them. Jace was looking to the ground, not unused to being chided for things he could not control. Steadily, Magnus’ finger found his chin and lifted his head until their eyes met again. But contrary to Jace’s beliefs, there was no hatred on Magnus’ face. His voice carried on, “I don’t blame you. Your father’s actions are not your own,” he took a long look at him, calculating. Then, a grin spread across his face, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. “Tell your father I’m here.”

With this, the hand underneath Jace’s head lifted and patted his face. Then, Magnus turned, disappearing into the crowd.

  
Meanwhile, Alec was wandering through the city. He had returned to the Red Keep, just after Jace had left him. But the talk with his betrothed had rekindled his desire to flee the oppressing halls of the castle. Wandering through the streets had always calmed him, today it only reminded him of the things to come. A hopelessness settled in his chest, and as he rounded the corner, his head was too lost in thought to see the man standing before him.

Crashing into a strong chest promptly brought him back to the world, apologies spilling from his lips. But as he looked up, all air left his lungs. His eyes could not seem to stand still, could not decide on which part to focus. Following the man’s broad arms, his shoulders, his neck, the defined lines of his jaw, the goatee, the depths of the deep brown eyes that met his, Alec felt like he had wandered into a dream. Hazily, he felt a bright grin take over his face before he could stop it, and noted the man’s face lightening up as well. Alec had never before felt this aware of his own body, never before felt like he was vibrating out of his own skin. And even then, he was not prepared for the sound of the man’s voice.

“I don’t think that we’ve been formerly introduced. I’m Magnus,” the man… _Magnus_ announced. Magnus. Magnus Bane, Prince of Dorne. Alec was floored, frozen, he knew what he needed to say, but he was momentarily distracted by swinging shoulders, and sparkling eyes. Until he realised that he still had to introduce himself.

“Alec! I’m Alec,” he blurted.

The gentle smile that followed his words made Alec forget all the diplomacy training he had received; forget all the things his mother had told him about the Dornish. Given the lack of reaction to his name, he realised that Magnus had not recognized him, and consequently he felt the tension flee his shoulders. He noticed the lack of a soldier accompanying him, and decided to take the chance.

“Prince Magnus,” he proclaimed. Magnus’ lips quirked. “Would you like me to show you the city, your grace?”

The smile that met his words was worth all the embarrassment a walk with Magnus could bring, and without preamble he gestured towards the path ahead.

Walking through the city, the conversation between them flowed freely. Magnus commented on the history, the architecture. While Alec talked about the citizens, pointing out small businesses that he knew were owned by hardworking people. When they had just begun to walk, there had been a calculating look in Magnus’ eyes, his intelligence even sharper than his looks (as far as that was possible), and Alec had felt bared to the bone. But the more they spoke, the gentler it became. There was a calmness radiating off Magnus, and Alec could do nothing but try to soak it in as much as possible. Dimly, he realised that he had not felt this light in months. And he had also not realised that he had been leading them towards the gardens, until they passed the lemon trees and reached the patio. Magnus had been quiet for a while, the silence comfortable between them, and when he sat on one of the chairs, Alec could not help but chance a glance at the rest of his body. Leisurely, his gaze dragged up his legs and chest, and promptly stuttered once he met Magnus’ eyes, watching him. A blush crawling up his cheeks, he took a seat across from him.

“I came for the wedding, have I mentioned that?” Magnus began, “Arranged marriages aren’t looked on kindly in Dorne. Only if they are built on attraction, budding love if you will, they are accepted by the people. A former lover of mine, I think he called it ‘a disgrace to love itself.’” Alec’s breath caught in his throat, his expression must have looked like confusion because Magnus smiled wryly, and went on to explain, “In Dorne, we do not shame people for love.”

There was a kindness to Magnus’ words, his voice dipped in compassion. Yet, it felt stifling to be shown understanding instead of scorn, like he was falling into the depths of the unknown. And with great reluctance, Alec excused himself. Standing, he made to walk back to the Red Keep, and just as he reached the stairs, Magnus’ voice stopped him in his tracks,

“There is still a month to your wedding, Alexander. We will see each other before that.”

Alec could do nothing but fall.

  
On the balcony overlooking the gardens, Maryse observed the two men. She could not hear the words that had been exchanged, but could imagine their nature. Raising the wine to her lips, she turned towards the figure standing behind her.

“We need a distraction.”

* * *

 

Magnus was right. In the following weeks it seemed like Alec’s senses were attuned to his presence. There was a longing brimming in his veins, for kind eyes and even kinder words. For laughter, and warmth. Inbetween preparations and duties, he stole away into the gardens, waiting for Magnus to finish his. When he arrived, he spoke of trade agreements and the people he met. But soon enough, their conversation would carry on. To tales of Dorne, of Magnus’ work. “You must know your people, Alexander. In the end, all that you are is their servant, their protector,” he would say, a fire in his eyes that burned Alec alive. To family, “How is Izzy?” Sometimes, when Alec felt brave enough, he asked for the state of the kingdom. While he dreaded to hear the truth, he longed for it as well. Longed for someone who talked about it without dipping false honesty in flowery words. “The people are unhappy, starving, dying. War is raging in the North. War is coming from the East. And the King... does nothing.”

With the wedding looming over their heads, all they did was talk. But both cherished the time spent together. They felt the energy, the connection they had made. Yet, Alec felt restless. He knew it was too late to stop the wedding. The expenses had been made, the guests invited. A refusal would only end in a loss of respect for his family, and he would have to leave King’s Landing, most likely. Where would he go?

Nevertheless, a few days before the wedding, he again found himself spending his evening with Magnus. They were walking down the pier, soaking in each other’s presence when they were alerted to a commotion in the plaza.

“The City Guard has been ordered to make an arrest. I thought you ought to know, my liege.”

“And why is this arrest of importance to us?” Magnus inquired, his voice sharp. Alec turned to him, and their gazes met. Both knew these words did not bode well. There were no coincidences in King’s Landing. With a short nod, Alec turned back to the soldier in front of them, “Speak plainly.”

Hesitating, he took a deep breath, and his voice carried through the gardens.

“It was a Kingsguard, my liege.”

Dread pooled in Alec’s stomach as they swiftly made their way to the cells. It could have been anyone, really, but intuition, as well as the frown on Magnus’ face, told him that the feeling building in his chest was not wrong. Reaching the cells, he strode towards the guard, dismissing him. Magnus had already opened the doors, and Alec followed him, the sight of his brother in chains stopping him short.

“You couldn’t have come sooner?” Jace droned. Chained to the floor, it was clear that the men of the City Guard had not looked too kindly on someone branded a traitor to the Crown, even if technically their superior.

“We came as fast as we could,” Alec kneeled next to him, checking his injuries, “Jace, what happened?”

Jace let out a deep breath, and grimaced. “There was a murder.”

“And you are the suspect.”

This time, Magnus’ voice did not bring warmth to Alec’s heart, but froze it with deadly accuracy. Never before had he seen his family’s actions so clearly. His mother’s words of duty and loyalty to his blood turning to dust before his very eyes. And never before had he felt such unending rage. “They can’t do this!”

“They already have, brother.”

Jace’s words were met with silence, and Alec could feel his composure break, piece by piece. Magnus’ eyes met his, and he noticed that he looked contemplative. Putting the pieces together even before he had all of them. Soon, they had to leave Jace, and Alec leaned heavily against the walls of the Keep. Magnus remained next to him, silent.

“Magnus,” his voice almost pleading, “tell me what you think.”

Magnus’ eyes bore into his, hesitance colouring his features. Nevertheless, he nodded. “Someone wanted to stop Jace from attending the wedding.”

While the words brought more light to the situation, they also created new shadows in Alec’s mind. The confusion must have shown on his face because Magnus turned to gaze at the balconies overlooking the rest of the yard. “The city hears much. I will find out as much as I can,” he raised his hand, seemingly with the intention to touch Alec’s shoulder, but then let it fall again. “I will see you tomorrow, Alexander.”

  
Tomorrow meant the day before the wedding. Despite his busy schedule, Alec managed to escape once again. Still, the creeping feeling of being watched would not leave him. And as he reached his destination, his eyes swept over the balconies, foreboding clouding his thoughts. Even seeing Magnus, leaning on the wall of the pier, did not calm his mind. “Magnus.”

“Alexander,” Magnus did not face him, “there has, indeed, been a murder.”

“You mean an innocent person has been killed, only to bar Jace from attending the wedding.”

There was a bitter taste on his tongue. It had been his fault, after all. As usual, his presence, his wedding, worked like poison against those he cared about. His- He drew in a sharp breath. Air flooded his lungs and filled him with an awareness priorly unknown to him.

It was not his fault at all, was it? He never wanted the throne. He never wanted to learn how to lie, how to deceive. He did not want anything to happen to Jace. All his life, he had been denied what he truly wanted. And right now, he did not want to-

“I don’t want to marry her.”

The words felt like a burden falling off his shoulders. Magnus’ head snapped towards him, compassion shining through his eyes. The whole month, he had not forced Alec to confront his fate, had only subtly commented on the cruelty of such a decision. Now, Alec felt all these words sink into his bones, opening his eyes to things he had not seen before.

“You don’t have to,” Magnus insisted.

Alec felt something building behind his eyes, and turned to look at the man that had stepped out of his dreams. “I do,” he smiled sadly. “What else can I do?”

There was a fire burning in Magnus’ eyes, one that called to Alec and drew him in. “My ship,” Magnus began, “will leave tomorrow after the feast, before the ceremony.” The words washed over him, Alec could feel his hands shake. “I would gladly take you with me.”

All of a sudden, everything felt too much. Alec could hear the waves crashing into the pier, the breeze shaking the lemon trees, the wings of the birds flying overhead. The colours of the world rearranged themselves, a rainbow of sensation crashing into him, and for once in his life, he wondered whether drowning would feel like relief. Magnus gave him a last smile, the fading sun tinting it gold, and turned to leave. But before he could take a single step, Alec grabbed his arm. There was no hesitation as he crashed their bodies together, burying his face in Magnus’ neck. Arms wrapped around him, the goatee dragged against his cheek, and with growing comfort, Alec realised that this was the first touch they shared during their time together. As well as their last.

After a lifetime, Magnus pulled back, his face serious, “Alec, I know you feel what I feel,” the words dragged over Alec’s skin, “But you have to make a decision. And once it’s final,” A beat.

“I won’t look back.”

With this, Magnus turned, and left Alec standing alone. Both meanings of Magnus’ words were painfully clear to him. Even so, he did not want to make him wait for a lost heart. Standing there, facing the unknown, ready to jump, he fought to make a decision.

* * *

 

“This is the day that we have been waiting for,” Maryse’s voice rang through the crowd, “New alliances, new love, a wondrous occasion.”

Alec drowned out her next words as he found his seat next to Lydia. Sleep did not find him that night, and even now he could feel his soul shaking, begging for him to act. As if possessed, his eyes swept through the mass of people attending the feast, searching for spiked hair and bronze skin, but in his haste, he could not concentrate, faceless people staring back at him. He wondered how he was supposed to find the strength to continue, without Magnus and Jace by his side. His brother in chains, and his hope fleeing the city, as well as his mind. Looking up, he saw that his father had joined his mother in her speech of the bright future that lay ahead of him. Leisurely, Maryse moved to his table, took the wine one of the soldiers offered her, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun. Placing a cup in front of him, she filled it with wine, and sent Alec a tight lipped smile, “I am so proud of you, Alec.” Moving back, she gave the other cup she had filled to his father, but Alec could not care less about any of her words. Because as she moved, his eyes had found the one person he had been seeking all along.

Meeting Magnus’ eyes, the world rearranged itself to show him a clear picture of his own reality. Oxygen moved into his lungs, and the revelations he had made in the time leading to this moment joined together like puzzle pieces slotting into place. Briefly, he pondered whether his knees could even hold his body up at the moment, but as he looked down, he saw that his hands were no longer shaking.

The strength had found him after all, because it was his own.

Standing swiftly, he registered the surprise flickering through Magnus’ face, and sent an apologetic look to Lydia, who only gave him a smile in return. He took the first step and-

Was stopped by the sight of his father. Chocking.

  
The next seconds flew by in a rush. Distracted by the surprise of Alec standing, Magnus could barely make out Maryse’s cries as she stood over the fallen king. Alec was frozen in place, shocked eyes on his parents. Robert’s face was turning purple, wine spilling out of his lips. However, despite the shock, his instincts never left him. Magnus stood, pulling Catarina with him. If they had not wanted Jace to attend the wedding, it was obvious to him that he was the next target. Only that there was a difference between a Kingsguard murdering a lowborn citizen, and the Prince of Dorne murdering the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Another war, he thought tiredly, someone wanted another war. They had reached the stairs, just as the voices behind him surged up. “Too late,” he breathed out, and turned. Only to see Maryse look to Alec, and not him.

“This is how far you’d go?” she hissed, pointing at her own son, “Seize him!”

Grabbed by his own soldiers, Alec’s devastation was clear on his face. Thinking quickly, Magnus informed Catarina of his plan, watching her rush off. Without hesitation, he moved through the narrow paths of the city. He had always prided himself of being a step ahead, always thinking of all possible outcomes. Never had he expected the tide to turn against Alec in this way. Reaching the last corner leading to the main road, he stopped. And waited.

Only seconds later, steps were heard coming his way, and a dagger was slammed into a soldier’s face. The confusion was immediate. Soldiers scattered, Alec’s elbow ramming into the one holding him captive, turning and pulling a sword out of its sheath. Their eyes met, but Magnus was already moving. Blades danced through the air, blood colouring him red. Two, three, four, soldiers fell, Alec pulling his sword out of a fallen body, and as he turned, his own bow met his gaze.

“Thought you might need this.” Jace grinned, his sword gleaming in the light.

There was fear on Alec’s face. “No, you will be named traitors!”

“It is already too late to worry about that, Alexander,” Magnus huffed, and Alec moved on instinct alone, shooting the soldier standing behind him. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm.

“We need to move,” Catarina’s voice serious as she pulled him away from the dead, “right now.”

Magnus moved to Alec’s side as they made their ways to the docks, but they were stopped by the sight of soldiers blocking their way. Their eyes met, debating whether they were strong enough to fight their way through the men. Magnus wondered when they had learned to understand each other without words. Just as they decided their fate, the door behind them opened.

“This way.” Raj voice rang out to them, and through the underground passages, they made it to the pier.

Watching the city shrink in the distance, Magnus joined Alec at the rear of the ship. Judging by the look on his face, Magnus knew that Raj’s words were ringing through Alec’s head as well. _We will fight for you._ And fight they would. But standing there, shoulders brushing, fingers interlaced, the horizon transformed into the one thing both knew they had just found in each other.

Hope.

* * *

 

Their arrival in Dorne was met with a view of the Sunspear Towers, and a scorching sun warming their skin. Without reprieve, they were led into the palace, right into a war council. Alec watched through half lidded eyes as Magnus took command of the very air in the room, all attention on him. However, while the servants were flittering out of the doors to allow them some privacy, and he allowed his gaze to leave the Prince for a moment, he spotted dark hair stepping through the entrance of the hall. His call could not be stopped even if he had wanted to.

“Izzy!”

They met in an embrace, finally together again. Seconds later, he felt another body crashing into them. Gently, the realisation he made wrapped him in its arms. His mother’s words about family were never false. He had only misunderstood.

Word of his father’s death had spread rapidly, and even Isabelle, tears in her eyes, had not been spared the pain of losing a parent as she questioned the events of the wedding. Explaining what happened, the siblings moved back to the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw Catarina leave in a hurry, a letter in her hand, but before he could question it, Ragnor spoke up.

“Welcome to Sunspear,” he gave a heavy nod, “I wish your visit would have been made in less dire circumstances, but alas, there is no time for pleasantries, anyways. The coronation of your brother, Maxwell, has already been announced.” Alec’s face twisted into a grimace, this meant that his mother would reign as Queen Regent.

“The reasons for your father’s death,” Ragnor continued, “are still being questioned. Most people doubt that his son was in any way involved. Some...” he trailed off and took a long look around the room, “believe the King chocked.”

“People will believe what people will believe. The King was poisoned.” Magnus’ voice rang through the room, and was met with a heavy silence. Alec noticed Jace’s hand drumming on the table.

“Magnus... didn’t you study poisons at the Citadel?” Jace questioned, his voice small. Anger flooded Alec’s body. He immediately went to object Jace’s insane accusation but was stopped by Magnus’ voice.

“Yes I have. That’s how I know.”

“You arrive at the capital. Then, a month later, my father dies of poisoning.” Jace’s eyes bore into Magnus. And Alec’s into Jace, incredulous.

“Rather suspicious, isn’t it?” Magnus acknowledged, voice bored, “Why haven’t you done anything about it?”

At once, all the tension left Jace’s body. He leaned heavily against the table, eyes apologetic. “Because you didn’t kill him,” he admitted with a deep sigh.

Alec was still looking at Jace, the wheels in his head turning. His father had been drinking wine right before his death, the wine his mother had given him, the wine that he was supposed to drink as well. He was sure his mother would have never tried to kill him, and he tried to recall where the wine had come from before she-

“A soldier brought the wine.” The revelation led his eyes back to Magnus, only to see his knowing eyes looking proudly back at him. Of course he had figured it out already, Alec mused, and despite the direness of the situation, he felt warmth spread in his chest.

“What?” Isabelle implored, but he saw her already putting the pieces together.

“The soldier that brought the wine,” he explained, “I didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t one of ours.”

The realisation hung heavy in the air, tension filling the room. And through the silence, Magnus’ voice felt like a knife, sharp and insistent. “We can be sure then that your mother is not, in fact, the one ruling the kingdom.”

  
Evening saw Magnus walking through the palace. Ever since his arrival, his duties had caught up with him. But at the end of the day, all he could think about was brown hair, and hazel eyes. Dodging servants, he was hit with a deep craving. The feelings he had felt throughout the last month were unlike any he had felt before. No man, no woman, no person, had been able to open his heart this thoroughly. Reaching his chambers, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he spotted Alec sitting on his balcony.

“Alexander,” he breathed out.

“Magnus.” Alec turned, a slow smile spreading on his face, “I was waiting for you.”

Alec had changed into a tunic, the weather too warm for his usual attire. His upper chest was free of any fabric, chest hair catching Magnus’ appeasing gaze. Leisurely, he moved towards him, sitting down on the other side of the small table standing between the both of them. Their eyes met, and Magnus felt a tingling in his fingers, like his energy was trying to escape his body on its own.

“Oh, you have, haven’t you,” Magnus said teasingly. Even to his own ears, it sounded softer than the words suggested.

“Yes, I have.” Alec leaned forward, eyes never leaving Magnus’, and took a deep breath, “I wanted to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Magnus insisted, his hand reaching over the table. Alec caught it in his.

“But I do. I just- I want-,” he stopped himself. Wrapping his fingers around Alec’s, Magnus hoped to show him that his thoughts would not be met with scorn here.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Alexander.”

“I know.” Smile spreading, Alec’s eyes began to shine with determination.

“I never thought,” he murmured, “that I could have this. That I could feel this... free.” Magnus’ hand was raised to Alec’s lips, “Until you came along.”

There was something magical about feelings dancing around each other. About eyes that were unable to stop their gazing, fixed in their position. About kisses pressed to hands, and words breathed into the air. About laughter shared under low light. The night was filled with soft voices and touches. A new tenderness was found, and for a few hours, the burdens of duties and approaching war were forgotten and replaced with thoughts of a future that had always seemed impossible. And when the gentle music of the sunrise reached them, bodies pressed together as they watched the world come alive, they knew that this was a dance they would never finish.

They had just started their second game of chess, when a servant came to inform them of a visitor in the throne room. Heavy steps echoed through the halls as they joined Jace and Isabelle, and made their way towards the day ahead of them.

The man they found looked weary, his heavy coat had been thrown to a chair, and he was pacing the room, frown on his face. Catarina was standing next to him, missive in her hands. When he noticed their arrival, he took a deep breath and fell into a low bow.

“My name is Simon. Knight Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

A long and exhausting conversation later, they had been informed of the dead rising beyond the Wall, and an offer of Alliance from the East. Alec took a long look at the stamp sealing the missive Simon had given them, the wolf in front of a blinding sun. However, Isabelle had dragged him away just as Magnus had asked for more information concerning the oncoming fleet, and as much as he wanted to hear what the Commander had to say, it gave him the perfect opportunity to ask for her opinion concerning a thought that taken hold over his mind.

 

Leading his sister by the arm, they wandered through the Water Gardens. Alec marvelled at the fountains and flowers, and could not help but notice that calmness came to him once again in a place of such beauty. It was also impossible to overlook the one person whose beauty overshadowed any other walking towards them. Illuminated by the sun, Magnus shone. He had changed into a different tunic, a dark blue making him look more regal than ever. Breathless, Alec had to clear his throat when his eyes were drawn to Magnus’ arms straining the fabric. Giggling, Isabelle let go of his arm and strode towards Magnus, kissing his cheek. The sight cemented Alec’s decision. She threw him a last wink before leaving through the archway to the terraces.

His upbringing shining through, he had the urge to ask about the missive. So he did.

“The Greymark ships are set to arrive in a few weeks,” Magnus answered, “War is coming for us all. For the Iron Throne, for the world. Dorne will have to be ready.” Facing him, Magnus tentatively reached for his hand, “Fortunately, thoughts of war will always show us what we truly care about.”

Warmth filled Alec’s heart, a smile grew on his face. Intertwining their fingers, he raised their hands to his chest. His heart was beating fast, but he felt assured in his affection. “Magnus, what you feel for me...”

“I mean it, Alexander,” Magnus cut it, “We might not know each other for long but... you’ve unlocked something in me.”

“Me too,” Alec laughed softly, “I feel the same way, Magnus.”

There was wonder in Magnus' eyes. Gently shaking his head, it seemed that he could not believe what he had been given. Alec used his momentary shock to his own advantage, and stepped closer.

“You talked about alliances,” he began, heart in his throat, “There is one alliance I can give you, more than anyone else.”

Wide eyes met his own, and before Magnus could interrupt him, Alec raised his other hand to his cheek. “I don’t want the Iron Throne. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not a leader. With you by my side,” he laughed teasingly, “I think I could even weather the politics.”

His words were met with a wet laugh, and he slowly wiped the tears from Magnus’ eyes. “But you know I don’t actually care about that,” he continued, voice lowered to a murmur, a sacred promise made between the two men, “My whole life I couldn’t have what I wanted. And right now, I just want you.”

There were tears gathering behind his eyes, and Magnus freed his hand to reach for his face as well. “You know, the Dornish look down upon such unions,” he said, voice light and teasing, making Alec laugh.

“Not when they’re based on attraction, fondness,” face inching closer, the next words were only a soft breath, “or budding love.”

Standing inbetween flowers and blood orange trees, close enough to feel the other’s breath, Alec was flooded with a feeling he could now recognize. He was aware of the blinding smile on Magnus’ face, of the people by the pools, of his siblings watching from the balconies. He knew what they were seeing, but he felt no shame. He would never be ashamed again, he thought, and pressed his lips to Magnus’.

Happiness surged through both of them. Alec felt Magnus’ heartbeat as clearly as he felt his own. Their lips dragged against each other, wet and demanding. Mouths opening, tongues meeting, a whispered ‘yes’ and they breathed their feelings into the other’s mouth. Moving in unison, bodies pressing closer, they were suspended in time.

 

Evening saw them surrounded by dahlias, dressed in gold. Crowns of flowers adored their heads as they spoke of fealty, protection, of loyalty, and love. It was a quiet affair, only their friends and family present. Some were crying, but they could not tear their eyes off each other long enough to check. A kiss, more chaste than the last, and they were greeted with music. And as Alec took his husband’s hand, dancing in the moonlight, he welcomed a quiet revelation into his mind. Serenity came not with a place. Not with gardens, or flowers. It came with people. It came with home.

Raising his head from Magnus’ neck, he pressed their foreheads together. Noses dragging against each other. With a content sigh, half lidded eyes, and the smile that had been etched into his face ever since he had learned to put his feelings into words, he echoed the words they had promised earlier, “Will you give me your heart, Magnus Bane?”

A soft murmur, and eyes filled with love. “I think I already did.”

 

Soon, they retired to their chambers. _Theirs_ , now and forever. Loving kisses turned hotter, fuelled by the desire burning in their veins, and the warmth brimming in the air. Clothes were lost, kisses pressed to exposed skin. Hands wandered their bodies, mapping out the constellations they saw in the sky. The feelings sinking into their hearts, and the pressure building between their legs. Alec’s mouth at Magnus’ thighs. Taking love, for the first time in his life. Magnus’ fingers in Alec’s hair. Receiving love, for the first time in his life. Hours upon hours of gentle touches, hard touches, of lips and tongues. Words murmured into the other’s skin. Alec in Magnus’ lap, his lips on his neck. Devotion breathed into the other’s mouth, until the sun rose them from their bed.

 

 

And weeks later, the morning brought them to the docks, observing the approaching ships. Still, with hands intertwined, they knew they would weather the shadows to come.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Dahlia flowers](http://www.buzzle.com/articles/dahlia-flower-meaning-and-interesting-facts.html) were believed to be an indication of personal sentiments. They meant commitment, or an everlasting bond or union.
> 
> Tell me what you think! And come yell at me on tumblr at [ magnusbaene ](http://magnusbaene.tumblr.com)


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